TEAM FORTRESS 2 IS A VIDEO GAME BY VALVE
THE TITLE IS DIRECTLY TAKEN FROM EMINEM AND GWEN STEFANI'S SONG
This is supposed to be a continuation of the story from the comics. Since issue #7 is on hold indefinitely, if it ever comes out, pertinent modifications to this story will be done.
The first encounter happened way earlier than Tom thought.
The room was dark and in a placid silence. The perfect conditions for the new mother to rest from a six-hour long labor and the visits from lots of people from the father's side she didn't know and just a few she was actually acquainted with. Over her head floated a swarm of blue balloons: 'Congratulations!', 'It's a boy!'. Around her, so many bouquets she almost seemed to be sleeping on a flowering prairie, enough diapers for the boy for twenty-five years, a complete wardrobe for him, and lots and lots of Lotsos. And, beside her, him.
The baby also seemed to be resting from all the cuddling and cheek pinching. The grandmother from his father's side had said, in tears, that he looked just like his dad, and the mother guessed it was supposed to be a compliment, because at that moment, after nine months in the water, he looked like a raisin. Perhaps time would reveal those features from the father—features that would have to be compared to the pictures, because the model was lying six feet under. His shadow, however, still cast upon his son from the grave, as that grieving grandmother was completely sure she had heard him say some time that he was dying to give him the name of Tom, after his grandfather and hero, and it would have been heartless not to comply to a dead man's last wish, more if there were no better ideas in mind.
So both the mother and the newborn slept placidly, thinking they were alone at last. Which was far from the truth, because, the fact that the man wasn't perceived didn't mean he wasn't there. He had been standing there for the whole day, and now that it was just the three of them, he felt free to move from the corner he had been waiting in and approach the cradle.
A dim ray of moonlight hit the baby's face, who slept without worrying or even noticing the presence of this person and, of course, couldn't even suspect just yet the influence he would have on the life that had just started.
From that December day in 1987, his ethereal presence would be a constant in his life.
When months started making him less of a raisin and more of a boy, in the solitude of his baby games, when Mommy was taking a nap or left him alone thinking he was the one sleeping, that shadow slipped into the nursery room and entertained the toddler with plushies which walked on their own, songs in a language he hadn't heard Mommy or Grandma talk, or just welcomed him in his arms and kissed his forehead. Most of the time he didn't see its face or even its shape but a few times he could see the hint of a face. Enough for it to become familiar and, therefore, absolutely not scary.
As years passed and he started attending school, his games at the playground were usually interrupted upon noticing an adult watching him from outside the school, always smoking, always dressed elegantly. He never approached in public, but there he was. Tom always waved his hand at him. "Who are you saying hello at?", his friends would ask him, and he would notice there was no one where that man was just a second before, making him feel stupid.
He once dared to confront him about it, after he spotted him by the end of a baseball match. He ran to make sure he didn't escape like he always did before he heard what he had to say.
"Dude, stop being a jerk! You're here or you're not! What are you, some kinda wizard?"
The man rose an eyebrow, then smirked.
"A wizard?"
"Sure! With the invisibility powers and stuff."
The man turned his gaze to the book the boy kept inside his backpack. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. His smirk widened.
"Yes. Yes, I am."
"So that means I'm a wizard too? You're bringing me my acceptance letter?"
"I have it right here."
"Wait. You're mocking me, right?"
"You are very, very bright."
"Jerk!" In spite of his words, Tom smiled, and so did the mysterious man. And proved he was a jerk vanishing the very second Tom was distracted by his mother calling him among the crowd.
Needless to say he never clarified him how he did those magic tricks, so Tom grew up believing he was actually a wizard like Dumbledore.
His special, invisible friend was the usual viewer of his baseball games, school performances and birthdays, always in a corner, where only Tom could guess his presence. Always half serious, like his mind was drifting, half smiling at him tenderly, in a way which made him sure he meant no harm to him. They never spoke much—in fact, they never spoke at all. Being in the same place was the only support of their strange relationship. For a child who believed in wizards and dragons and elves, it was a secret he loved to keep.
However, there came a time when the man stopped showing up altogether. Tom thought he was hiding very well, until he couldn't even sense his presence, like he always ended up doing, meaning he really wasn't there. He didn't come to his birthday celebrations, his matches. He was completely gone. Since he never told him who his was, where he lived or even his name, Tom couldn't try to look for him.
With time, he forgot about him, or at least pushed that memory deep into his memory. After all, he had just hit puberty and it wasn't cool for a grown-up to believe in invisible men.